One Sizzling Night. Jo Leigh

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СКАЧАТЬ anything on display could match what he’d seen back at Sam’s apartment. Her presentation was going to make one hell of a big splash on closing day, especially with the debut of a completely new kind of minicam. But Sam was specialized and he needed a lot more than what she could provide.

      What had begun as a small security startup to ease him back into civilian life had grown into something far bigger than he’d ever imagined. Big enough to employ some of his fellow vets and give them an opportunity to do something worthwhile.

      Which was why he needed that contract from Holstrom. While Logan preferred to operate independently, it would take years before he had the corporate and government contacts and the credibility that Holstrom had established. The timing was perfect. Holstrom had made his mark and a hell of a lot of money selling weapons. Last year he’d branched out to the security business, and while he was savvy and already doing well, he still had a lot to learn about navigating the intricacies of working on foreign soil.

      That’s where Logan could shine. He had firsthand experience and knowledge of operating in the field. He also personally knew a lot of excellent, highly trained men well enough to identify their strengths, their weaknesses and whether they were mentally capable of being sent back into the field. His insight also enabled him to place them in positions for which they’d be best suited.

      Unfortunately, being former black ops couldn’t help him land clients. As far as politicians and most every other American were concerned, soldiers like him—men and women who worked in the shadows—didn’t exist beyond Hollywood. And that nice and tidy fallacy worked very well for the secrecy coveted by a certain arm of the CIA.

      He didn’t regret his patriotic service, nor had he been looking for glory. But it sure as hell would’ve been useful to list his experience on his résumé. Potential clients would be lining up to have access to someone who’d been a member of the world’s most elite team of professional soldiers. On the other hand, he’d have to explain why he’d left the CIA. And that was something he didn’t want to think about, much less discuss with anyone.

      Logan hadn’t gotten past that one yet. It didn’t seem to matter that his final mission was a failure. He had his target in his sights, but the kill shot would have taken out a small child—collateral damage. He couldn’t pull the trigger. The target wasn’t even a credible threat, but that didn’t matter. Another sniper had taken the shot in Logan’s stead. The child had died. And he was done.

      Luckily he didn’t think about it as often anymore, and he wasn’t about to let the past cloud his judgment now. He owed it to himself and his brothers to give the opportunity to subcontract for Holstrom his full attention. So far Logan had used only a handful of special-ops vets for domestic cases, but word had been spreading in its intricate way through the legion of tier-one special operatives that he was expanding. And now he had over a hundred interested men ready to sign. All of them eager and ready to roll. It all came down to securing enough funds. His personal savings and portfolio would only take him so far.

      The first booth that caught his attention had night vision scopes sporting new technology that made them easier to use. He got carried away and made it to only two more booths before realizing it was nearly one, and he was starving. Unfortunately, they didn’t sell food in the exhibit hall, so he’d have to go to the adjoining hotel or find somewhere to eat on the street.

      But he’d come back, stay to the end of the day and finish checking out the booths to see which ones he should revisit tomorrow. The day after, he’d be giving his presentation. Day Four was his meeting with Holstrom, and he hoped, a big celebration when he was awarded the contract.

      For now, his hunger needed to be dealt with. Why he hadn’t stashed a couple of protein bars in his pocket was beyond him. Especially considering the variety of bars Sam had stocked in the pantry.

      Thinking about the apartment made him think of Kensey. Where had she gone last night, looking so fierce and so sexy he had forbidden himself from thinking about her during conference hours?

      He quickly pulled himself back to the most pressing order of business...which was what? Yeah, right. Food.

      Come to think of it, he needed to try some of the new kinds of nutritional substitutes being sampled in booths at the other end of the building. And not just because right now he could eat the hindquarters of a jackass. He wanted the best for the people he hired. Sometimes overlooking something small could make or break a mission. Like food, water, warmth—

      “Oh, hey.”

      He knew that voice. And that body. Goddamn, why’d he have to run into her? “Do you know how many people are at this conference?” he asked, turning toward Kensey.

      She looked surprised. “No. How many?”

      “I have no idea,” he said. “A lot. And we run into each other?”

      She started laughing. “I’m not following you, Logan. I give you my word.”

      “Which is just what someone who was following me would say.”

      “Tell me you’re joking.”

      He let his grin take over. “Yeah, I’m kidding. Hey, have you had lunch? I’m trying to make my way out of here to grab something.”

      She shook her head, making her hair swish over her shoulders. She wasn’t wearing it the way she had last night. But then she wasn’t wearing that dress, either. Damn thing had kept him up half the night. Thank God he hadn’t seen her in it when he was fifteen. He’d have OD’d from masturbating so much. Being thirty-three had its upside.

      “I’ve got a thing,” she said. “But I’ll be home this evening. What about dinner?”

      That was so much better. He smiled as if he’d won a medal before calming his shit down to something a grown man would wear. “Sounds great. What time? Seven? Eight?”

      She seemed to be thinking it over, which gave him a chance to look down. Mistake. Man, she was hot. Her blue-gray T-shirt was just tight enough, and the neckline was wide enough for him to become really familiar with some of her enticing secondary parts. Like the ridges of her collarbones, the toned slope of her shoulder...

      And her pants... On a guy he’d call them cargo pants, but on her, they became a shrine to her curvy shape. They hugged her thighs, then went straight down to her blue-gray high heels. The middle section was covered by a very wide pinkish belt that sat squarely on her right hip then pointed south.

      He couldn’t wait until she turned around, because that T-shirt was tucked in. He’d have a perfect view of what had to be a damn fine behind.

      “How’s your afternoon?” she asked.

      “You mean, now?”

      “I’m just trying to figure out dinner. Either 7:00 or 8:00 would work for me, but if you have a full afternoon we can—”

      “Nope. I’m tied up until 6:30. After that I’m free and clear for the night.”

      “Perfect,” she said, and so was her smile. “How about we shoot for 7:30?”

      “Great. At the apartment, right?”

      “Right.” She was giving him a funny look. Had he missed something? Or was he that stupidly obvious? “See you later,” she said and turned around.

      Even СКАЧАТЬ